


It's Probably Oregano Anyway

by PlatonicRabbit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Implied Drug Use, Stanford Era, Underage Drinking, inspired by line from 11.19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6691498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlatonicRabbit/pseuds/PlatonicRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes up to his phone ringing. He grabs for it without opening his eyes. ‘Whoever the fuck you are, call me again at three in the damn morning and I’ll hunt you down and shoot you in the face, ’ he growls into the device.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Probably Oregano Anyway

Dean wakes up to his phone ringing. He grabs for it without opening his eyes. ‘Whoever the fuck you are, call me again at three in the damn morning and I’ll hunt you down and shoot you in the face, ’ he growls into the device.

He’s reaching for the end call button when he hears a familiar, panicked voice.

‘Dean wait wait please it’s an emergency!’ Sam’s voice hasn’t changed at all in the last two years, though it’s currently higher pitched than usual and squeaky with panic.

Dean is instantly on high alert, sitting up in the motel bed and switching the light on. Internally, he’s calculating how long it would take him to drive to California if he started now.  
‘Sammy, calm down, I need you to stop panicking and tell me what happened,’ Dean’s voice unconsciously assumes a soothing tone he hasn’t had to use in years.

He reaches for his boots and begins lacing them on. His duffel and jacket are ready to go, sitting by the door.

If he leaves right now and only stops for gas it’ll take ten hours to get to Sam. Far too long, Dean knows from over a decade of hunting experience.

‘There was this party, and, and I don’t usually go to parties, but Brady really wanted to, and he’s been acting a bit weird lately so- that’s not the point. We got here, and Brady gave me some beer, and then he convinced me to smoke a joint, and Dean, I think I’m dying.’

Dean closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose really hard.  
Covering the receiver with one hand (or at least he thinks so, hand to remember when he’s changing phone models every other month where the right spot it), Dean swears under his breath at Sam. ‘Probably just oregano anyway,’ he grumbles. He removes his hand and takes a breath.  
Taking care to speak calmly, he says, ‘Alright, Sammy. Listen. You’re not dying. You’re an idiot, but you’re not dying. I want you to find someone, someone you trust, not this Brady guy, to take you home, alright? And I want you to call me back in the morning. Or whenever you wake up.’

‘But, Dean’- Sam hasn’t calmed down at all.

‘Sam. You sound fine. And there’s nothing I can do from the middle of goddamn Utah. So you need to calm down. Get someone at the party to help you. Is there someone there you can ask?’

‘Uh, yeah… There’s Jess… I’ll go find her. Thanks, Dean.’

‘Okay, Sammy, stay on the phone with me, alright? Just until you’ve found your friend.’

‘Uh, I see her, she’s right here. Sorry for bothering you, Dean.’

‘It’s alright, kid,’ Dean replies, but Sam’s already hung up and the only answer Dean gets is an electronic beep.

He sits back down on the bed and toes his boots back off.

‘Here’s to another two years of radio silence, then.’


End file.
